Picture It
by Iellix
Summary: For some reason, Hatter loved that picture--there was something about Alice and her pose and her lack of clothes and her 'come hither' expression that made him rapidly lose all the blood to his brain. Lemon, one-shot.


I had an art history professor once who declared that often what you _don't_ see in paintings and photos is a lot sexier than what you _do._ _Almost_ being able to see things is way hotter than having them in full gynaecological view. I liked that philosophy—still do. Then again, he was as senile as a doorknob and used to deliver huge chunks of the lecture in German and sometimes Japanese, and would take attendance in French even though no one in the class spoke any of those. Take from that what you may.

Anyway, I got stuck while writing a (chaptered!) story so I decided to put it aside for a bit and write porn. Because, well, why not. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Alice or Hatter and am not profiting from their use. I'm just borrowing them to put 'em into awkward situations.

o…o

He liked that picture.

A_ lot._

An _awful lot._

He couldn't figure out why. He'd seen all of the pictures from that batch; he'd even _been there_ when they were taken because Alice offered to put his mind at ease and show him exactly what went on during a photography session with her friend, JD. What happened, it turned out, was a fairly quick descent into an awful lot of giggling between Alice and JD and the other model, a girl called Nel, and then Hatter had been convinced to join in, which was far more fun than he expected being mostly-naked in front of other people _would_ be.

So he was there when all the pictures were taken and he'd seen all the pictures before and he'd seen much more of Alice than was on display in the photo, but _something about _that picture was ridiculously, painfully sexy.

He stared at it in his hands.

The Alice in the photo stared back at him with what he thought was probably the most alluring come-hither expression ever worn by any woman, ever, at all, on either side of the Looking Glass.

In the picture she reclined gently against a solid black background beneath and behind her; her legs were bent at the knee and crossed and she was leaning back on one hand _just _enough so that her knees blocked her breasts from view. She wore nothing but her brown boots, white stockings, one of his hats that he let her borrow just for the shoot, and that delectable look on her face. In her free hand she cupped a glass of what looked like wine but which he knew was just fruit juice and a lot of red food-colouring.

Photography existed in Wonderland, but no one had ever thought to explore it as an art form, so he'd never really thought of pictures as something that could be so insanely erotic.

This picture got him ridiculously hot and he couldn't even begin to understand why. He was there when it was taken and there was _much more_ visible in the room at the time than was visible in the photo. He'd spent that entire day watching Alice and Nel—who was _also_ very, very pretty—wandering about a rented furnished apartment mostly naked and then he'd joined them himself and at the time he really hadn't been aroused by what was going on. It was all just a lot of fun and silliness.

It was the finished product—the resulting photographs—that made him rapidly lose the blood supply to his brain.

And this one was his favourite.

He couldn't even wear that hat anymore—a brown fedora with a red satin band—because it reminded him of this picture, and then he'd _think_ about the picture, and then inevitably end up with an embarrassingly persistent hard-on wherever he was.

"Hellooo?" He heard Alice call as the front door opened. "I know you're here, Hatter, your bike is parked outside."

He dove and shoved the picture under one of his pillows and immediately picked up one of the books next to the bed.

"Back here," he called, hoping he didn't sound too breathless.

The door to the bedroom swung open and there was Alice, leaning casually on the doorframe. She was wearing a very well-loved and much-faded pair of jeans and bright purple canvas trainers and, of course, that purple velvet coat, which came with her absolutely everywhere she went.

She raised her eyebrows a little at him.

"Your book's upside-down," she remarked before he could ask.

He blinked and looked down at it. "It's from Australia," he said flatly, knowing full well that that explanation was only slightly less than utterly stupid.

Alice said nothing in response to it. Instead she jerked her head across the tiny living room to the front door.

"C'mon," she said. "The 'Classic Cinema' is playing a bunch of Cary Grant movies back-to-back for $20—plus all the popcorn you want."

The Classic Cinema was a small, old-fashioned-style movie house in what Alice called the 'artsy' area of town; it showed all old films, which Hatter had fallen in love with because they all depicted a part of Alice's world that was long, long past.

"Oh yeah?"

"You've had a long week, and so have I," she said. "Let's go. My treat."

"Your treat, huh? Does this mean I have to put out?" He asked with a sly, cheeky grin that made her laugh heartily.

She sat at the foot of his bed and leaned towards him on her elbows. "I'll take it out of you in sexual favours later."

He couldn't help but laugh, too. Hatter was used to living his life very seriously, always being on-guard, being very careful and solemn and serious all the time because living his life playing in both courts left little room for frivolity; but here in Alice's world he didn't _have_ to be that way anymore and he could be as silly as he liked, which was liberating.

She reached across between them and gently tugged on his trouser leg.

"C'mon," she said again.

He got up quite obediently and pulled on his boots and found a hat and coat that agreed with his choice of cherry-red floral silk shirt and snug-fitting black jeans. After a moment's quiet indecisiveness—Hatter took longer to dress than any woman Alice knew—he settled on a dark, dark green coat and a black hat with a red band.

While he was in his armoire and his back was turned, she noticed the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from under his pillow; she pulled it out to see what it was and was mildly surprised to see a picture of herself staring back at her. One of the nude ones from a few weeks ago, she realized. Clearly the picture had been handled quite a bit, and she felt herself smile as an idea started to form in her head.

She quickly put it back under the pillow before he turned around and together they went off to the cinema.

o…o

That little germ of an idea evolved quite rapidly.

First she had to call Nel, because Alice didn't actually own a pair of stockings and had worn Nel's during the shoot.

"So he has a _thing_ for the stockings, eh?" Nel asked in her gentle lilting accent, curiously similar to Hatter's.

"Something like that," she said.

"Well, you can keep 'em if you want," she said, handing the stockings over. "I don't wear 'em except at the odd shoot. 'Least they'll be getting some use with you, even if your man-friend chews them off."

Alice had to laugh at the image in her head. She thanked her and then made off.

She had a key to Hatter's apartment and she knew he wasn't going to be home for a little while yet, so she let herself in.

"Hatter?" She called out experimentally; there was no answer. She went back into the bedroom to peek in and see if maybe he wasn't asleep and couldn't hear her.

Nope—no Hatter.

The kitchen was still laid out like he'd left in a rush, with a teacup and a crumby plate and three—_three—_newspapers on the table. He probably _had_ left in a rush. Time was a different concept to him, and the idea of getting out to work _on a schedule_ was taking him a little while to get used to.

Alice felt like being uncharacteristically domestic so she cleaned up his breakfast dishes and the sink-full of teacups and saucers, none of which matched. None of the plates matched, either. Not even the chairs at the kitchen table matched. How Hatter-ish, she thought.

Then she looked at the clock—ten to four. Hatter got off of work twenty minutes ago and would be on his way home.

Sure enough, the loud roar of Hatter's motorbike came rumbling up the avenue, drowning out much of the noise of the people on the street and making all the dogs in the vicinity erupt in a cacophony of hysterical barking. A quick peek out of the bedroom window confirmed that it was, indeed, him; he pulled to a stop at the curb and killed the engine. People all around lowered their hands from their ears. He replaced his helmet with one of his signature hats and made his way to the entrance of the building.

From here Alice knew she had about half a minute to get ready. She pulled off her jeans and her shirt and her underwear and rolled them all up together and set them aside. A few second's rooting around in Hatter's armoire was all it took for her to find the hat she'd worn at the shoot and she was already wearing the boots and stockings.

A final touch was the velvet coat hung casually on the outside bedroom doorknob; she closed the door most of the way and settled herself at the foot of his bed in approximately the same pose as the photograph—whether the effect was the same or not from the doorway she couldn't even begin to guess—and waited.

She heard the front door open. Hatter was mumbling to himself as he stepped heavily inside and slammed the door. Then there was the jangle of keys being dropped on a hard surface, and then there was silence.

"I thought I left everything out this morning," she heard him say. "Huh. Guess not."

A few more steps, and then another pause.

"What's that doing here?"

The footsteps got closer to the bedroom door. He picked the coat up from the doorknob and then there was a brief hesitation before he pushed the door open all the way.

And there he stood, with her coat in one hand and a look on his face that clearly said he was allowing himself to switch mental gears.

"Hello, gorgeous," she purred softly, knowing that such a line was probably overdoing things and not really caring.

He was still staring mindlessly at her, his eyes going from her boots to her hat and back and lingering on everything in between.

Then he snapped out of it.

"Right," he said, shaking his head and tossing the coat next to her on the bed. He took off his own coat and hung it up and tried his best to ignore her. "I have _got_ to stop having that dream."

"It's a dream, is it?" She asked. "Funny, I don't feel like a dream."

"Yeah, that's what a dream _would _say, isn't it?" He asked rhetorically. "But I know how it'll turn out. I'll get my trousers off and we'll be just getting to the good bit and I'll wake up and it'll be four in the morning and I'll end up tossing myself raw in the bathroom for the better part of the next hour. That's how it always goes."

Alice bit down on her lower lip but her laughter escaped anyway. She covered her mouth with one hand and giggled helplessly, flopping back into the soft bedding.

"I'm glad _you_ think it's funny."

He stood there with his arms crossed, leaning against his armoire and scowling at her.

"Well, it is," she said, rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself up onto her elbows. "And this isn't a dream."

"So… this is real?"

"Mm-hm," she murmured.

"And you're really there."

"Mm," she poked herself experimentally on the shoulder with one finger. "Seems like."

"In my bed. Dressed—_undressed—_like… _that."_

"I am indeed."

She sat up and sat at the edge of the bed nearest him, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" She voiced it as an outright challenge, knowing Hatter never let a challenge just pass by like that.

Pause.

"I'll get to that once I can figure out how to use my legs again."

She stood up and closed the distance between them in two steps. Hatter's eyes were glazed over and he was dumbstruck until she grasped his tie and pulled him down and kissed him. It took him all of half a second to respond, grasping her shoulders and kissing her back fervently.

He steered her the two steps back to the bed and pushed her down onto it; she kept her grip on his tie and pulled him down with her. He landed on top of her without breaking the kiss.

They both scrambled with the buttons on his shirt—he worked from the top and she worked from the bottom and it took a frustratingly long time to negotiate those stupid fucking buttons and Alice wondered why the hell he didn't just take up wearing t-shirts or hoodies like normal people did because she was starting to contemplate just popping all the buttons off and saving time. Except if he wasn't wearing garish patterned shirts and flamboyant hats and tailcoats, then he wouldn't be Hatter anymore. That he was like approximately _no one _else was part of what she loved about him.

The buttons finished, he shrugged out of his shirt and nudged Alice back and back on the bed so he could tower over her on his hands and knees.

Their kisses stopped and he stilled over her; she squirmed at first in protest, trying to get him to move again, but stopped. His eyes were hard and his hair was more mussed than usual; his breathing was coming in hard, fast, shallow pants as he stared down at her, taking her in as if for the first time. Then—slowly—he parted his lips slightly and ran his tongue over his lips and teeth in a manner that could only have been described as 'predatory'. Alice felt her breath hitch and her heart speed up and she grew very, very warm very, very fast.

She pulled him by his tie again—leave it to Hatter to wear a tie and a hat in bed, though it was hardly her place to complain since she was wearing boots and stockings still—and lifted her head and bit down on his neck. He snarled like an animal and retaliated, biting her right back in the soft part between her neck and shoulder, which shouldn't have felt _nearly_ as good as it did. She groaned and threw her head back, digging her nails into his shoulders as hard as she could.

Then he let go and lipped the spot and she sighed. She felt him take the tender bitten flesh into his mouth and mark her. She'd have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow if anyone saw it, but such things were far from her thoughts now.

He struggled out of his trousers and threw them across the room, followed by satiny shorts in an eye-spanking shade of bright blue.

He kept his hat, though. The one she was wearing had since come off and fallen somewhere, but Hatter commonly maintained his headwear no matter _what_ they did. It was like it was attached to him.

He moved up from her neck and kissed her again, rough and hot and nipping at her bottom lip until she opened her mouth and let him in. She grasped his hair, kissing him just as roughly, biting his tongue and growling when he bit her back and dug his nails into her hips. She wrapped her legs around him and ground her hips into his, making him moan into her kiss.

"Oh, god," he moaned into her neck when she did it again. "Alice—oh, hell—"

He rolled his pelvis against her and he hit just the right spot to send firecrackers off in her skull. He turned his attention to her neck, mouthing kisses and little bites down her throat. She mewled and purred and whimpered as he went further and further down, traced her collarbone with his tongue.

As he moved lower still and lavished attention on her breasts. He held her hands down at the wrists and rolled one nipple between his lips, making her squirm and writhe under him. He laughed softly against her. Then he bit down and she cried out.

"Hatter!"

She thrashed and freed her hands, planting them on his chest and pushing him up; a quick jerk and a roll of her hips and she turned them over, pressing down on his shoulders and grasping his hips with her knees.

"My turn," she declared.

"No it's not," he countered, turning them back over and pinning her.

"Hey!"

She pushed him right back and flipped them again, getting dangerously close to the edge of the bed.

"Will you _stop that?"_ He growled. "This is _my_ fantasy, we're gonna play by my rules!"

"Like hell we are," she snapped back, pinning him again and resisting his further attempts to turn them over again.

"Are we gonna do this all evening?" He asked through the struggle.

She bent and kissed him, and started her way down his throat with the tip of her tongue. He went tense underneath her, purring ever so softly under his breath as she worked further down his chest.

Then she moved back up and kissed the side of his neck, bit down gently on his earlobe, and murmured, "Possibly."

"Can't have _that,"_ he decided, and he used a split second of her unawares to turn them over again and this time he held her hands over her head with his right hand and held on tightly; she tugged and struggled and whimpered but he didn't let go.

"You're spoiling my fun, you know," she said sulkily.

"You'll live," he assured her, kissing her little pout and tugging his tie off.

Hatter was inconveniently skilled with tying knots because he tied her hands together and tied them to the wrought iron bed-frame quite securely using only one hand and his teeth. When he sat back to admire his work, she tugged on her bonds but found them frustratingly firm.

"I shouldn't try that if I were you," he warned. He kissed her slowly and warmly and nuzzled her neck and whispered, "See, I'm rather good at tying people up."

Realistically, she supposed, she could _probably_ free herself if she'd really wanted to—but, she thought as he purred filthy promises in her ear in a voice that made excitement and anticipation burn in her chest and between her thighs, she _really_ didn't want to.

He paused briefly and leaned over the side of the bed to get something—she couldn't sit up to see what he was getting—and came back up to place the hat she'd been wearing back on her head.

"Is this going to become some kind of weird fetish for you?" She asked, her voice straining as he grazed ever so gently up her thigh with his fingernails. "Boots and stockings and hats? And bondage?"

"Maybe," he murmured into her neck. "Or we could just say I have an Alice fetish. Encompasses a lot more that way."

And he kissed her neck, and slid down and kissed her again between her breasts, and his hand crept slowly up her thigh, and Alice held her breath. He traced his fingers back and forth along the join between her thigh and her pelvis, tickling her; he hovered his mouth over one breast, breathing hotly but not touching, and making her squirm helplessly against his weight on her legs and the bonds on her wrists.

He was tormenting her.

And it was wonderful.

He was taking his time, torturing her slowly with his mouth and his hands—_almost_ touching her but not quite, and ignoring her pleas and holding her down when she squirmed, and thoroughly enjoying himself the whole time, if his evilly soft laughter was anything to go by.

…his evilly soft laughter and the raging erection she could feel against her leg and her hip whenever he leaned on her.

Eventually he'd snap, and she knew that; he wasn't going to be able to keep off of her forever. At least she damn well _hoped_ he wouldn't.

But for the time being he seemed quite content to tease her mercilessly.

Once, some years ago, Alice had had a boyfriend who was into bondage and wanted to know if he could tie her up; she dumped him more or less immediately because the idea of being tied up and helpless with him—with _anyone—_freaked her out. That she was having no panic response, no fear, and no reservations about Hatter having tied her up, _and_ that she was rather enjoying herself, said a great deal. She trusted him far more than she'd intended to, more than she'd trusted anyone before.

And she liked how that trust made her feel. She felt safe with him, even in this… situation, with her hands bound and tied to a bed-frame, because she knew that all she had to do was tell him to stop and he'd do so immediately and untie her without question.

_Trust._ What a novel concept.

A groan escaped her when he ghosted his fingers just over her sex, and he gave a satisfied growl in her ear; she could feel the vibrations in his chest and the stirring of her hair as he did so.

She rolled her hips against him, hoping to entice him, but he seemed unaffected.

"Oh for goodness sake, Hatter," she moaned, desperation seeping into her voice against her will. "Just _touch me_ already!"

He laughed. Not that soft, evil, sexy laugh like he did when he was tormenting her, but a real laugh.

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," he rasped. His voice was husky and when he sat back she saw his chest heaving as he breathed, the sweat that was beginning to bead on his forehead, the obvious desire written clearly in those dark eyes.

She grabbed him quickly around the waist with her legs and held tight, bringing their hips flush against each other and nearly making his eyes pop out. He grunted.

"Please?" She purred, knowing she had at least a little bit of leverage now.

He kissed her again, rough and hard, barely giving her time to catch her breath before he plundered her mouth again and again. He bit her tongue, her lip, growling and whining and grinding his hips against hers. He raked his nails down her sides, stinging and tickling at the same time and making her whimper into his kiss.

He forced one hand between them, blindly struggling to find the right spot with his fingers around the absurdly tight hold she had on him with her legs. She loosened her grip and let him get closer, closer, and her eyes slipped closed.

His touch was gentle, firm; his hands were warm. She sighed and let herself go limp and watery under his fingers. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and moved her hips in time with his fingers. His mouth was on her neck, his free hand teasing her breasts. She felt her whole body get hot, tingly. _God,_ he was good…

Her back arched and she softly cried out his name when she came.

Then she lay panting underneath him, blood rushing in her ears, her muscles still twitching pleasurably.

His fingers slowed but he kept touching her, making her hips buck; he nuzzled and kissed her neck and then moved up and kissed her lips.

Alice sighed giddily, but she was hardly sated. She wanted more—_more._ She rolled her hips into his and whined softly low in her throat and struggled against her bonds with a renewed fervour.

Hatter looked down at her, tied to the bed beneath him, a smug little smile on his lips. She couldn't guess what was going through his head but she couldn't imagine it was anything good. It wasn't often that Hatter had her at a disadvantage like this, and she knew he wasn't going to waste this golden opportunity.

But then he reached up and gave a quick little tug on the tie holding her hands to the bed-frame. The knot released and she was free; she frowned briefly at him and then at her hands, and then back at him again. She was almost… _suspicious._

He turned them over one last time, giving her the upper hand. He put his hands on her hips as she shifted over him. This was too easy—he had to be planning something.

"Have at it," he told her.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I can't have sex with a woman who's tied up. And you're more fun when you're in control."

She didn't ask any questions.

She ground into his hips so hard she wondered if she was going to break his pelvis.

He groaned under her, rocking with her and digging his fingers into her hips.

When they were spent and stilled and collapsed in a heap, they lay there catching their breath in a tangle of arms and legs. She kicked her boots off and he pulled the blankets up over them.

"All because of a photograph, hm?" She asked softly. She lay atop him, her hands folded on his chest and her chin resting on her hands.

"An uncommonly sexy photograph, yes," he said.

She said nothing, just leaned and kissed his chest where there was a fading round scar from where he'd been burned by a cattle prod. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He stroked down her hair and down her back and they both sighed contentedly.

"You know," she murmured after a few minutes.

"Hm?"

She lifted her head and switched hats with him and kissed him soundly.

"If you beg nicely I'll tell you which of them was _my _favourite."

o…o

Well, there you have it. I wrote porn. I usually prefer a little fringe of plot with my smut, but this time I decided to just sod it and write something plotless and porny. Now that that's aside, I hope to be able to get through a few more chapters without getting blocked. Otherwise I'll end up contributing nothing to this fandom except for some PWP one-shots. I hope you enjoyed the read!

Feedback is, as always, most welcome!


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